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He sat there gazing at the magnolia painting
Above my fireplace where it was hanging
Asking of the artist, I was pleased to reply
"She's the mother of a sweet friend of mine "
Admiring the piece, he continued to say
He'd love to commision the artist today.
Building a house, he had the perfect place
"How soon ?" he asked, excitement on his face
His face is black, his smile is beautiful
Our marriage is over, but love is mutual
　
Practically one of the family despite my past
She was eager to paint magnolias at last
Wondering who the buyer might be,
She hedged and feigned for all to see
　
My sweet young friend, embarassed and sad,
The worst family fight they ever had
"Never should've asked her," the father said.
Old South traditions are not dead
I can't tell my ex, the truth is too ugly-
"The artist is sick," yes, she must be.
